


my heart restarts as my life replays

by davidskam



Series: in dreams [1]
Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: AKA i don't care about glendower, Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, Implied Transphobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pynch au, TRC but a little to the left, The Raven Cycle AU, VERY davenzi centric, a character dies very briefly but if you've read trc then you already know that, both VERY brief, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidskam/pseuds/davidskam
Summary: Matteo dreams of darkness.He didn’t always. When he was a young child, his dreams were filled with whimsical nothings that would follow him into waking. Color changing flowers and music boxes that never stopped and strange bursts of light— impossibilities would appear on his pillow when he awoke, and he would cradle the magic tenderly between his hands before taking it to show to his parents.By the time he was ten, all of the light had gone out of his dreams.
Relationships: Matteo Florenzi/David Schreibner
Series: in dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844470
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	my heart restarts as my life replays

Matteo dreams of darkness. 

He didn’t always. When he was a young child, his dreams were filled with whimsical nothings that would follow him into waking. Color changing flowers and music boxes that never stopped and strange bursts of light— impossibilities would appear on his pillow when he awoke, and he would cradle the magic tenderly between his hands before taking it to show to his parents. 

His mother would praise him and stroke his hair and take the creation away from him gently, promising him that she would keep it safe but that it would have to be a secret. He would let her take them without objection— his mother would always keep him safe.

His father would watch with stern eyes and a disapproving frown on his face. 

The fighting started not long after his first dream. 

He tried to stop bringing things back. Matteo was a caring child, not quite quiet, but calm. He knew his father didn’t like the things he brought back. His mother only wanted to keep him safe— but his dreams started to get larger and the fighting got louder. 

By the time he was ten, all of the light had gone out of his dreams. 

Instead of nonsensical creations, there were snarling dogs that constantly followed at his heels. There were thunderstorms that were constantly raging, the lightning blood red and loud. There were never any shortage of things that could be classified as a weapon— blunt object and knives and fire. 

He fought hard to keep his dreams inside of his head, but sometimes he failed, and he would awake with a pounding in his skull from the lost battle and the offending object resting on the pillow beside his head. He would hide them, but they shouted and screamed and made impossibly noise until his mother took them away under the hostile eye of his father. 

Matteo never knew if she kept them or destroyed them. He didn’t think it really mattered. 

When he started Aglionby at fourteen, it was at the hand of his father’s guilt money and the promise to faculty that his son will be as good of a student as he had been. He paid for Matteo’s prep school and his mother’s house, and stayed far away from both of them. 

His mother didn’t leave the house much, anymore. She stayed inside and had groceries delivered to the remote property and very rarely indulged in her own dreaming. Her dreams had always been smaller, subtler— a blanket that radiated heat, but was not electric; a coffee-maker that knew what you wanted; roses that were alive and didn’t need to be cared for. 

Matteo rarely visits her. His music box, one of his first dreams, was always playing a quiet tune from where it sat on the mantle. 

***

Matteo’s life seems to be built around things he tries to ignore. He doesn’t think of his father, unless he calls and forces Matteo to speak. He doesn’t think of his dreams, except that he always ensures that he has enough weed to smoke every night before he goes to sleep so that he can keep his dreams calm. He doesn’t think about why he spends so much time in random churches. He tries not to think about his mother, alone in her house in the countryside. 

He tries to stop thinking about David. 

They officially met a few weeks after David had started at Aglionby. He shared a math class with Jonas, who was constantly trying to find someone who would indulge him with listening to his theories on the dead king who was rumored to be buried in the area— Matteo had never been a very receptive audience for that particular subject. 

He didn’t need a king to grant wishes for him. 

David, however, listened to Jonas with an intensity that Matteo had never seen outside of Jonas himself. Their other friends humored him, but David listened and theorized and read about Glendower with a ferocity that encouraged Jonas to introduce David to Matteo quickly. Matteo had smiled blandly, joint gripped between his fingers tightly, and welcomed him to the club sarcastically.

Matteo had never spoken to David before then, but he had seen him. One day, while Jonas was driving them to school, Matteo saw a boy wheeling his bike on the sidewalk. He didn’t recognize the boy, but he recognized the Aglionby sweater that was pulled haphazardly over his head. Matteo’s eyes quickly took in the boys tousled hair and glinting eyes as the Subaru sped past him. His expression had been all contradictions: intense and reserved, strong and vulnerable, defiant and defeated.

Matteo turned to watch the boy fade into the distance, and when he couldn’t see him anymore he turned back around in his seat, closed his eyes, and tried not to think.

***

Cabeswater was wonderful and terrifying all at once. Being there was like traveling back in time— back to a point in Matteo’s life that he would never get back. Sometimes, when he stood and stared up at the trees, he could almost pretend that he was five years old again, sleeping peacefully and without fear. 

He closes his eyes and breaths in the fresh forest air. It smells like roses. 

He wonders if he should tell the others that he dreamed this place. 

He doesn’t know when it happened, but it must have been before his dreams turned dark, when they were still vast and expansive and filled with magic that didn’t try to hide itself. He doesn’t want to think too hard about it, and from what he can remember, there’s nothing here that can hurt them. 

If there is, he’ll tell them. He promises this to himself.

“Matteo, come on, man!” Jonas shouts from through the trees, and Matteo opens his eyes slowly and looks around in a daze. He can see the shadow of where he knows Jonas to be, with Hanna standing next to him. “The energy here is _insane_. I want to keep looking around.” 

Matteo let out a huff of air through his nose— it could almost be considered a sigh. 

“What are you even looking for, Jonas?” David asks, voice coming from somewhere behind Matteo. He turns, staring at the way the light seems to soak into David’s skin. David isn’t looking at him; he’s staring at the surrounding trees with a line in between his eyebrows. Matteo wants to put his thumb there and press until the line disappears.

Matteo looks away and starts walking toward Jonas and Hanna. David follows behind him slowly. 

“Well, you all know about the ley lines—” Jonas begins, stomping through the foliage and waving the EMF reader he was carrying around wildly. Hanna narrowly avoids being hit by it, and she turns and shoots Matteo a grimace. He grins. “In theory, it should interfere with any sort of technology, and their energy should pick up on the reader. That’s why we pulled over—” 

“Since the clock in your car was going berserk?” Hanna asks, holding a branch out of the way so that Matteo could climb under it. He assumes she holds it out of the way for David; he doesn’t look back to check. “That could just be because your car is old as dirt.”

“The Pig is a reliable piece of machinery,” Jonas protests heatedly, swinging the EMF reader around some more. “I’ve never had issues with the stereo.”

“Only with every other part of it,” Matteo hears David whisper under his breath, and Matteo snorts, a noise amplified strangely by the clearing they suddenly found themselves in.

They stare around the field with thinly veiled suspicion. It seems man-made, perfectly circular, with grass even enough that somebody— or something— must be tending to it. They start to move again, investigating, and Matteo watches as David walks to the nearest pile of rocks and leans in close. 

“There’s writing here,” David calls out, and Matteo feels his stomach drop. 

They move to stand around the pile of stone and stare at it. Matteo swallows loudly and feels sick as he crouches and leans out to touch his own spiky handwriting. 

“What does it say?” Jonas asks, and Matteo closes his eyes. 

“It’s Latin,” David says, crouching next to Matteo. Their shoulders brush against each other, and all Matteo wants to do is collapse on the ground and lay there for a while. “It’s not— I can’t translate it.”

Jonas and Hanna make frustrated noises before Matteo speaks. 

“The first part is a joke.” His voice is low and it cracks slightly on the last word. He clears his throat before speaking again. “It’s not very funny.”

“You can read Latin?” Hanna asks, incredulous, and Matteo shrugs the shoulder that isn’t brushing David’s. He ignores the eyes on him.

“My dad made sure he taught me.” 

“What does the rest say?” Jonas asks swiftly, cutting off any possibility that David or Hanna might ask Matteo about his father. Distantly, he feels grateful. “And why is there a joke written on a random rock in these magical woods?”

Matteo swallows again, tracing the letters.

“There’s a joke,” He begins slowly, “Just in case I didn’t recognize my own handwriting.” There’s a beat, then two, then three, where the others take in what Matteo says. He speaks again before they can respond. “The last line says, ‘the trees speak latin.’ And the name of this forest— Cabeswater.” 

Matteo stands and turns so that he’s facing away from them; he doesn’t want them to see the nausea that he feels reflected on his face. He hasn’t carved those words yet. It’s another thing he swears that he won’t think about. 

He doesn’t know when he dreamed this place. He doesn’t know if they can trust it.

***

Matteo wants to care more about Glendower than he does.

He loves Jonas. They’ve been best friends since they were kids— when Matteo was sent away to Aglionby by his father, Jonas begged his parents to send him there too. They had been side by side for years, sharing experiences and growing up together. 

But Glendower had happened before Matteo met Jonas. 

He had heard the story hundreds of times. Jonas stepped on a hornets nest in the woods outside of his house. He died. He came back, and there had been a voice in his head that spoke of Glendower.

Matteo knows magic. He doesn’t know if he trusts this kind.

But he loves Jonas. He’d do anything for his friend, even if he just wants to drag Matteo on a quest for a dead king. 

***

Being at Aglionby was hard for Matteo.

It wasn’t that he hated school— far from it. He liked to learn, liked to _know_ things, liked being in classes with his friends where they could joke around and have fun together. But Aglionby was oppressive— every time Matteo walked onto the campus he felt like he was being watched. He _was_ being watched; he knew that his father had friends here, friends who would get in contact with him and tell him everything that Matteo was doing wrong. Matteo would get texts from his father whenever he skipped class, or failed a test, or got caught smoking in the abandoned bathroom below the auditorium. 

He wishes that he could go to the public school with Hanna and her friends, where he could get some sense of privacy. He wants to be another anonymous student, wants to be able to walk through the halls without feeling eyes on him, constantly watching. 

He knows that David feels the same way that he did, to an extent. Not about wanting to go to the public school— David had gone to the public school, and had worked hard to get to go to Aglionby. Matteo knew he would never give up his place here, and he didn’t want him to. David belonged in Aglionby; he wore the crested sweater with an elegance that Matteo had never possessed.

But he knows that David felt watched. Sometimes he wants to bring it up, to talk to him about it— talk about how they were both burdened with expectations, about how neither of them could walk down the hall without their movements being tracked and monitored.

He never did. 

Instead, he keeps his eyes low and his head down, watching as David moved through the halls with ease. He watches as David smiles at the groups of boys that were gathered in the hallway, occasionally stopping and chatting for a few moments before moving on. David knew he was being watched, but he used that, flattering people and giving them what they wanted— attention, compliments, a friendly ear to complain to— and people liked him for it.

Matteo looks away as David catches his eye, and turns to open his locker. He hasn’t actually used it in months; he keeps everything he needed in his beat-up brown backpack. David knows that, but he doesn’t comment on it as he came to stand next to Matteo.

“Finish the Latin homework?” David asks, leaning against the locker and tilting his head as he smiles at Matteo, who lets the corner of his mouth twitch upward half-heartedly.

“Yeah,” He answers, and David smiles a little wider.

“I still can’t believe you’re taking the same intermediate class as me, even though you’re fluent,” he says, gripping the strap of his messenger bag that is slung across his chest. Matteo’s allows himself to look at his hands for only a moment before turning away and slamming his locker shut. 

“I’m not fluent,” he objects as they begin walking down the hallway together. Their shoulders brush, and Matteo clears his throat a bit. “I mean, I remember some from when I was a kid, but not a lot. And I— it’s easier to read it than to speak or write it.” 

“Sure,” David agrees easily, nodding to Tad Curruthers as he passes by. Matteo feels a flash on annoyance at the look on Tad’s face. “Well, in any case, I’m glad we have the class together. Nehaus is the worst.” 

David was right. Dr. Nehaus, which he insisting on being called, was the worst teacher at Aglionby by far. No one knew why he was even there, since he certainly didn’t like teenagers. Some people speculated that he was there to do his own research, but there was no way to confirm that. He was just there, unpleasant and antagonistic, especially to David.

“Is he still giving you trouble?” Matteo asks, pausing outside of the door to the Latin classroom. He looks through the window on the door and sees Nehaus there, scribbling on the board with a frown on his face. “You know, I could still talk to my dad. He could do something about it.” 

David gives him a tired smile. “I know. You know I appreciate the offer. But—” He stops. Shrugs one shoulder, messenger bag slipped slightly and tugging his sweater out of place. Matteo looks at the slope of his neck, at the yellowing bruise on his collarbone.

“I know,” Matteo replies, and pushes open the door of the classroom. 

***

Sometimes, when David had stayed late with Matteo and Jonas, Matteo would drive him home. He would usually take Jonas’ car, and David would fiddle with the dials on the stereo that never seemed to pick up a good enough signal to play music without static. His body would get more and more tense as he approached his house on the other side of town. He would hunch in on himself, spine curving as if trying to make himself small. 

Matteo knew better than to ask about it. He knew David enough to know that he would make up a story if confronted, and Matteo didn’t want to force him to lie.

Still, sometimes he couldn’t stop himself from saying something.

“You don’t have to go back,” He said, pulling to a slow stop in front of the two-story house. The grass was brown and dead, and David stared out of the passenger side window, avoiding Matteo’s eyes. “You could stay with me and Jonas.”

It wasn’t an empty offer. There was more than enough room, and even if there wasn’t, Matteo would have given up his own bed if David had needed it.

He would give up anything to keep David safe.

“I can’t,” David said quietly, and Matteo closed his eyes. When he opened them again, David was staring at him with an almos manic gleam in his eyes. “You know I can’t. I can’t—” He stopped short, then continued, voice low. “I don’t want to run.”

Matteo wanted to argue, to say that it wouldn’t be running, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. They’d had this conversation before; Matteo knew that they would have it again. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. 

***

Matteo stands in the rain. He isn’t sure how long he’s been here, or how he’d gotten here. His dreams were dark, as always, and David featured in them prominently, as he often did. This time, however, Matteo knew that what he’d seen actually happened. He had been there for part of it, near the end, but this time he saw it in full.

David stood in the circular field that they had found on their first trip into Cabeswater. There was a gun in his hands, and a look in his eyes that Matteo had never seen before. 

Matteo knew that he had taken the gun from his fathers room when he had gone back for his things after being released from the hospital. He knew that there was an issue with the hearing in David’s left ear. Matteo had been there that night, had called the police as he stood outside David’s house and listened to the shouting. 

The gun trembled in David’s hand as he pointed it at Nehaus and a tied-up woman that Matteo knew was part of Hanna’s extended family. There were ritual objects set up, items that Matteo didn’t recognize, with a pentagram drawn on the grass in red, and he knew that David had interrupted them just before they had completed the sacrifice that would have let them have control over the ley line.

“Why are you here?” Nehaus demanded, sounding angrier than Matteo had every heard him, and David’s arm shook.

“I’m here to stop you from waking the ley line,” David answered, and Nehaus laughed before holding a knife to the womans throat.

“Put the gun down,” He said, the threat obvious, and David hesitating before tossing the gun away from himself. Nehaus smiled, slow and sarcastic. “Good boy.” 

David bristled, and Matteo watched as Nehaus walked around, muttering to himself about the ritual and arguing with the woman. They were getting to the part that he knew, now, and he watched as he burst through the woods with Hanna and Jonas close behind him. He watched as Jonas shouted, as Hanna worried, and how the woman disappeared. He watched himself move to grab the gun before Nehaus can get it, and get hit for his effort. He watched David throw himself into the middle of the pentagram. 

David whispered something, and although Matteo hadn’t been able to hear it the first time it had happened, he could hear it perfectly now. _I sacrifice myself_. 

When it had happened, the ground had started to roll, and Nehaus had tried to shoot David.

In Matteo’s dream, after hearing David’s words, his vision filled with darkness. It took him a moment before he realized that it wasn’t just blackness; it was dynamic, and it was alive.

There was a flock of ravens that flew around him. It was impossible, but Matteo had always dreamed impossible things. He reached out, trying to find where David had been, but his hand closed around nothing.

When he awoke, he was standing outside, and he was alone.

He stood there long enough that the rain started to clear and that Jonas pulled up in his shitty car, with Hanna and David with him. They flock around him, pulling at his clothes, asking where he had been.

“I’ve been here,” he says, and watches as Jonas furrows his brow and Hanna sighs. David just watches him, eyes glinting strangely. Matteo swallows. “I have to tell you something.”

“What are you talking about?” Hanna asks, voice high and stressed. “What are you doing out here?”

Matteo just shakes his head, hair sticking to his forehead. “I have to tell you something,” he repeats.

“Jesus, Matteo, just tell us,” Jonas says. 

“I took Cabeswater out of my dreams,” Matteo replies. 

***

“This is a nice place,” Matteo says, staring around the small bedroom and taking in the few pieces of art that was hung on the walls. He had never been inside of David’s old house, so he wasn’t sure how much of the decorations came directly from there, and how many of them were new acquisitions. “It was nice of your sister to come back here.”

David set a box down heavily on his bed. Matteo watches as it tilts and nearly spills the contents out onto the striped comforter. David stares at Matteo, the light reflecting off of his eyes in a way that almost made them seem transparent. 

“You’re happy that I’m here,” he says, and it sounds like an accusation. 

Matteo doesn’t see a reason to deny it. “I’m happy that you’re here,” he agrees, and the room fills with the scent of grass. The leafy plant that sits on the windowsill begins to sway with a wind that isn’t present. Matteo watches it move, feeling almost detached from the situation.

“You’re happy that I left home,” David says, blander this time. 

Matteo shrugs. “I’m glad you’re not there any more.” He stops speaking as the smell becomes stronger, and glances up at David. There’s a shadow on his face, tinged green. 

Matteo pretends that it doesn’t unnerve him, the way that David is linked so inextricably to one of his most fantastical dream. He pretends he doesn’t even realize it. 

“I wish it hadn’t happened like that. You should have— it should have been on your terms. I— I’m sorry that I didn’t help.” He stops abruptly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, disturbing the delicate balance of the box.

It topples, and Matteo stares as the stack of charcoal drawings that depict familiar scenes— a pile of rocks with spiky handwriting smudged onto them, a canopy of trees, a shadowy figure in front of a pond, leaning over it. Matteo wonders who the figure it supposed to be.

Davids hands come into focus, picking up the drawings and stacking them neatly before sitting on the bed, to Matteo’s left. Matteo's eyes stay focused on his hands, on his long, thin fingers. There is a callus on his middle finger that seems close to bleeding. Matteo knows the way that David holds a pencil— held tightly between his thumb and forefinger, resting on that callus, digging into it with the pressure of his grip. David has been drawing more, lately. 

“You know that I—” David begins, then pauses, considering his words. He had always been good at talking, good at saying exactly what people needed to hear, but since that night in Cabeswater he’s been quieter, more thoughtful. “I wanted to leave on my own terms.”

“I know.” Of course Matteo knows. “I’m sorry it happened the way that it did. But I’m not sorry that you’re here, now.”

They make eye contact. David’s eyes are back to their normal brown, now, and Matteo finds himself counting his eyelashes. There’s a fading bruise on his cheekbone, the yellow nearly invisible on his skin. David’s eyes flit around his face. The smell of grass is gone, and the only noise present comes from outside of David’s room, where his sister is unpacking boxes. 

Matteo wants to close his eyes, to stop thinking. 

“Okay,” David says. 

***

Matteo slumps up the steps to Hanna’s house and knocks carefully on the red door. He has been sleeping poorly, recently— even with the weed, his dreams seem to be screaming at him. He often wakes with leaves on his pillow and vines wrapping around his headboard. He doesn’t think about what that might mean.

He can hear movement inside, chattering voices and laughing, and he knocks again, a little louder this time. The chattering continues, but he can hear a pair of footsteps, light but distinguishable, coming towards the door.

It flies open quickly and Matteo blinks down at a girl he recognizes.

“Amira?” He asks, and she gives him an unimpressed look.

“Matteo.” He blinks again. “What are you doing here?” She asks, raising her eyebrows, and he stares blankly at her for a moment that goes on just a bit too long.

“I’m looking for Hanna,” he says slowly, voice lifting on the last word, making it sound like a question. Amira’s eyebrows raise impossibly higher, and Matteo hastens to explain. “Jonas and David are out of town, and I— I just thought that we could hang out.” His voice sounds lame even to his own ears.

Amira stares at him and tilts her head to the side. Matteo swallows and stares back, still conscious of the fact that the conversation inside of the house has not stopped. 

“She’s not here,” Amira finally says, opening the door a little bit wider. “She got called into work. Some issue with the cash register. She’ll be back soon, you can wait for her.” She turns, the end of her hijab barely fluttering as she walks away. Matteo steps inside quickly, closing the door carefully behind him before turning and facing the group lounging around the living room.

He had met most of Hanna’s friends before, but only in passing. It wasn’t that he purposely avoided them, but it never seemed like there was anything that they had in common.

Matteo took in the tarot cards and candles spread out on the coffee table and quietly reassesses his previously held opinions.

“Hi, Matteo,” Mia greets him calmly, and Matteo mutters something in return as he takes a careful seat on the floor, as far away from the group of four girls as possible. “Would you like a reading?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, thanks,” he responds, watching Sam pick up the cards and quickly shuffle them into a pile. The cards moved quickly— almost too quickly. Kiki shoots him a shark-like grin from where she was lounging on a chair.

“Don’t believe in magic?” She asks, and Matteo wants to laugh.

“I believe in magic,” he answers quietly. “I just don’t want a reading.” 

“Why not?”

Matteo shrugs, letting his head loll back and rest against the wall. He peers at the girls through his lowered eyelids— they’re watching him, seated in a semi-circle around the coffee table. He wonders how in-tune with magic they really are. He vaguely remembers Hanna mentioning something about her friends having skills of their own. He wonders what they can sense about him. 

Amira shifts so she’s sitting a bit closer to him. The other girls go back to their deck, talking quieter than they had been before he had knocked. Matteo lets his eyes fall shut. 

“I don’t need a tarot deck to read you,” Amira tells him, voice low, and Matteo feels his spine stiffen. He keeps his eyes closed.

“I don’t know what you mean.” His voice is tense. He can tell that Amira is smiling at him, at his defensiveness.

“You have a secret that you’ve never told anybody,” Amira says. Matteo’s eyes fly open, and he stares at her. She’s not smiling anymore. Her dark hijab makes her eyes stand out even more than they might otherwise; they are pits of darkness, and it feels like she’s staring straight into his brain.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matteo says tunelessly. “I shared my secret.” It’s like he’s standing in the rain again, soaked to the bone. 

Amira shakes her head. “That wasn’t your only secret. This one is deeper. Closer to your chest.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matteo repeats. He wishes that he didn’t have to lie. 

Amira smiles at him. It’s a small smile; he thinks that she means for it to be comforting. “Sure, Matteo.” 

The front door opens again, and Matteo watches as Hanna steps into the house. She doesn’t seem surprised to see him, and he wonders if one of the girls had texted her, or if she had simply known that he would show up.

“Hey, Matteo,” She greets him. “Just here to hang out?”

He nods silently.

“Great! We can put on a movie or something. I think we’ve all practiced enough for the day,” She says, and Sam starts to put the tarot cards into a velvet bag before she freezes. She stares blankly at the wall for a moment before turning and smiling at Matteo.

“You should tell David to come by sometime,” she says, and Matteo’s gut clenches. 

“Sure,” he agrees blandly. 

***

Matteo’s dream is disjoined and chaotic. He stands in a part of Cabeswater he’s never seen before. There is a pond there, and it’s dark and and deep. It looks like it drops down for miles, filled with murky water. He thinks he can see a shape, moving slowly in a circle. He backs away quickly. The trees are rustling violently around him, and they seem taller than usual— they stretch impossibly high, their branches interlocking like fingers twisted together.

“Why is this happening?” He asks, spinning around. He sees a loose pile of rocks, covered in dirt. There is one large rock that looks like it has fallen off of the top of the pile. 

The trees rustle louder. Matteo listens closely, trying to hear the words that he knows they’re trying to communicate. 

“I can’t hear you,” he says desperately, craning his head back to stare at the sky. He can’t see any of the sky. “I don’t understand.” 

“They’re trying their best,” David says, and Matteo whips his head around to stare at him. He’s dressed all in black, as is common for him both in reality and in Matteo’s dreams, and he is staring at the pond with a frown. He looks tired, with dark circles etched deep into his face underneath his eyes— but in Matteo’s dreams, David is always well rested.

“Are you really here?” Matteo asks, and David looks up at him.

“I think so,” David says, patting his chest absent-mindedly. “I’m dreaming. Is this— are we in your dream?”

Matteo nods, and they look around the forest again.

“Have you been having trouble dreaming?” David asks, walking over to peer into the pond with interest. Matteo resists the urge to reach out and pull him back. 

“I guess,” he answers, running a hand through his hair. “They’ve been— the weed hasn’t helped calm them down.”

Right on cue, the wind howls loudly. Matteo listens hard, but can barely make out the suggestion of words. 

David narrows his eyes and steps back, positioning himself to Matteo’s left. He looks around again before settling his eyes on Matteo, who tries not to fidget. David’s eyes have the barest hint of green in them.

“Cabeswater has been…” He trails off, considering. “Loud, recently. Getting louder. I think it needs help. Something has changed.” His words are halting, as if he’s unsure, and it seems almost as though they are coming from a source external from himself. The wind settles down as the leaves make a noise that gives the impression of approval. 

A small beam of light comes through the top of the trees and shines on the pile of rocks. Matteo and David look at each other, eyebrows raised, before moving and inspecting the fallen rock closely. David reaches out to pick it up, but he can’t. It’s not that there’s a barrier, or that his hands go through the rock— more that Matteo’s eyes can’t comprehend the moment where David’s hands are pushed back, and they’re simple clasped around nothing. 

“I think we need to come back when we’re awake,” David says, unclenching his hands and looking back at Matteo, who stares back at him, saying nothing. 

He can’t help but think that David looks beautiful here, in Matteo’s dream— cloaked in dim green light, eyes seeming to glow faintly, bringing the smell of spring with him. David’s eyes widen slightly as they move all around Matteo’s face, and Matteo abruptly realizes that since David is here, and is actually sharing his dream, he has no idea what he might be picking up on. He goes to move away, but David reaches out and grabs his wrist. His thumb is pressing against the tendon, and they stare at each other for a long moment. Matteo thinks he can hear something swelling in the background, a music of some kind. He shifts forward nearly imperceptibly, and David matches the movement.

There is a crack, and Matteo looks up to see a branch crashing down from the canopy of trees. David and Matteo wrench apart and move away from each other to avoid being hit, but Matteo trips over his own feet and finds himself falling. He moves impossibly slow, and when he collides with the water in the pond, he jolts awake, sweating profusely. 

His phone is already ringing with call from David.

***

They don’t talk about the dream. They spoke on the phone briefly, confirmed that they had indeed shared a dream, and then met later in the day to go to Cabeswater and fix the fallen rock. David brought a tarot deck that Matteo recognized from his visit to Hanna’s, and he did a brief reading in the forest that confirmed what they suspected— that Cabeswater needed help. 

Matteo avoided looking at the pond as they stood in the forest.

David carefully lifted the rock on the ground and set it on top of the pile. Immediately, the air in the clearing seemed to sharpen. David closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Eyes still closed, he took out his tarot deck again, shuffled it quickly, and drew a card.

He didn’t show Matteo, and Matteo didn’t ask to see it. He simply turned, looked at Matteo, and told him that they needed to find other spots where the balance of the ley line had been disturbed. 

Matteo said nothing, but he nodded, and drove Jonas’ care wherever David directed him.

He thought to himself, privately, that he would take David anywhere.

***

Matteo watches as Jonas sorts through the climbing equipment that he had brought to the cave. A cigarette hangs out of his mouth. It is unlit, but he reaches into his pocket and flicks his lighter once, twice, again. His eyes catch David’s, who is standing near the mouth of the cave, leaning against the stone with his arms crossed. There is a line between his brows, and it stays there even when his face relaxes.

Matteo lights his cigarette and takes a deep breath. David keeps watching him.

David has been watching him a lot, lately. Matteo wants to pretend he doesn’t notice, but he can’t. 

“Okay, guys, we need to tie ourselves together,” Jonas says, tossing David the end of a long safety cable. “I’ll go in first. Tug on the rope if you get freaked out. We can always leave and come back another time.” 

Matteo watches as David and Hanna tie them themselves together, with Jonas at the lead. He stubs out his cigarette when Hanna turns to him, waiting for him to connect himself to their chain. He wonders why it’s him that’s at the end.

When they’re all connected, Jonas turns to him with an expectant look on his face. Matteo stares at him blankly before sighing in sudden realization. 

He thinks for a moment, then calls out in shaky Latin, voice barely higher than his normal speaking tone. “Salvus est?” _Is it safe?_

The reply came in the form of hissing leaves, much louder than they had ever been. Since Matteo and David had repaired the ley line, Cabeswater had been much more talkative.

“ _Greywaren semper est incorruptus_.” 

“It’s safe to go in,” Matteo translates, ignoring the honorific that Cabeswater still insists on calling him. He’s not sure what the forest wants from him now, what more he could give it beyond dreaming it into existence in the first place, but he knows that he didn’t want to start thinking of himself as the _Greywaren_. 

When they enter the cavern, they find themselves in a quiet room. The walls are dirt, with roots and vines snaking over every available surface. David reaches out and touches a fern, stroking one of the leaves with his forefinger. Matteo looks away.

Jonas turns on his headlight and gives directions to everyone. Hanna is to hum a song, to keep track of time; David will set the directional markers; Matteo will follow behind the rest and do nothing. 

“Just focus on not letting any of us fall,” Hanna says, shooting him a warm smile. Matteo smiles back reluctantly, barely twitching the corner of his mouth up. He looks past her and sees David watching him again. He can’t help it; he raises an eyebrow at him.

David promptly turns away to face Jonas.

“Everyone ready?” Jonas asks, and when everyone nods, he turns to face the narrowing tunnel. “Let’s go, then.” 

They venture into the darkness. 

***

The quest for Glendower was picking up in speed, now. Matteo worried that things were going too fast. Jonas almost died in the cave— David had pulled him out of the hole while ravens streamed out from behind him. 

It had been too close for comfort. 

Hanna had cried, hugging Jonas hard as soon as they had stepped outside of the dark cave and untied themselves from each other. She mumbled something into his chest that Matteo couldn’t hear. 

He had slumped to the ground and pulled out his lighter. He didn’t have another cigarette, but there was something comforting about the flick of the flame as it ignited. 

David was back to leaning against the outside of the cave. He was covered in dust, and there was a feather sticking out of his hair. He had pulled Jonas out of the hole in the ground. 

Matteo worried about where this would end. He knew it was coming to a close. 

***

There were students spread out across the lawn of Aglionby. They were petitioning for something, but Matteo doesn’t know what it is. He had never bothered to pay attention to the things that happened at this school. He thinks that if he asks Jonas or David, they would be able to tell him, but the atmosphere between the three of them had been different, since the incident in the cave. 

Matteo isn’t sure what to do about it.

“Jonas!” A voice calls, and two boys came bounding up the them. Matteo recognizes them from classes they’ve shared in the past; Carlos and Abdi. They were barely seen out of sight of each other. “Will you please sign this petition?”

Jonas accepts the proffered clipboard and starts reading the heading. Matteo sticks his hands deep in his pockets and tries to look like he doesn’t hate being here. He catches Abdi’s eye accidentally, and the boy grins at him before flashing a dab pen at him, quickly and discreetly.

“Want some?” He asks, and Matteo nods quickly before reaching out. They perform a strange handshake that allows the pen to change hands, and Matteo looks around the courtyard quickly before taking a hit.

The weed settles his nerves. He passes it back and makes eye contact with David. 

The line between his brows is there, deep as ever.

“Thanks, man,” He says, looking away from David and giving Abdi a nod. Abdi shrugs, slipping the pen back into his pocket.

“Anything to get your signature, Florenzi,” he says, gesturing at the clipboard that Jonas is now signing. Matteo laughs, but accepts the pen that Jonas hands him and signs his name sloppily. He doesn’t read what it’s for; he still doesn’t care. 

Carlos takes the clipboard back and smiles winningly at David. “How about you, Schreibner? Want your voice to count?” 

Matteo thinks for a moment that David will refuse, but David only clenches his jaw for a moment before smiling an easy smile and signing his name. 

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Carlos says, passing off the clipboard to Abdi, who tucks it underneath his arms. Carlos shifts his weight slightly so that he’s leaning into Abdi’s side. “How is everything going for you? Still on your quest?” 

There is a strange note to his voice at the word _quest._ Matteo and David share a look as Jonas begins speaking to the two excitedly. Matteo isn’t sure when he and David started being able to communicate through the tilt of a head and the blink of an eye, but he can read David’s concern as easily as he can feel his own.

“Sounds rough, Jonas,” Abdi says, setting his arm on top of Carlos’ shoulder and leaning his chin on his own forearm. “Caught at a bit of a dead end, huh?”

“We’ll figure something out,” David says, drawing eyes to him. He smiles, and Matteo can see the tightness there.

“Of course you will, Schreibner,” Abdi laughs and lightly punches David’s arm. “Smartest guy at Aglionby, right here.”

“Smartest guy in Henrietta, probably,” Matteo corrects without thinking, and there’s a strange moment where everyone stares at him with varying degrees of surprise on their faces. Carlos and Abdi are still leaning off of each other, and they seem more confused or anything. Jonas has a look on his face like he’s about to start laughing. And David—

David looks startled, like a rug has been pulled out from under him. Matteo wonders if he’s imagining the way that David’s ears are turning red, or the way that his lips seem to be twitching upward into a smile. He doesn’t think that he is.

“You’re absolutely right, Florenzi,” Abdi agrees after a long moment. 

David laughs and makes a deflecting joke, and the moment passes. Carlos and Abdi excuse themselves, walking back to the group that they had been with before after a cryptic comment about showing Jonas something later. Matteo thinks he sees their hands brush, but he’s turning away before he can get a good look.

***

It is Raven Day. Matteo doesn’t know the origin of this Aglionby-specific holiday. He doesn’t care.

He is in the decrepit bathroom underneath the auditorium with David. The lights are flickering, and the water streaming out of the sink that David is desperately washing his face with is far too loud. When he was following David down here, he thought he saw Abdi and Carlos dragging Jonas away from the event towards one of the older buildings. 

It feels like too many things are happening at once. 

“Can you get my tarot cards out of my bad,” David’s voice is flat, and it’s not quite a question. He’s staring into the mirror and watching his eye twitch. Matteo feels bile rising in his throat, but he goes and fetches the velvet bag from David’s messenger bag. He knows he keeps them in the smallest pocket on the front, so he can get to them easily.

“What’s happening?” he asks, holding the bag out to David, who carefully wipes his hands off on his pants before taking it. He opens it and begins shuffling quickly, hands almost blurring with the speed that they’re moving.

“I don’t know,” David answers, and draws a card. He’s holding it so that it faces his chest, and when he sees it his face falls. Matteo doesn’t want to know, but he asks anyway.

“What is it?” Matteo asks, and David flips it around so that he can see.

It’s Death.

“The Death card isn’t— it’s not bad, per se,” David says quickly, before Matteo can start to truly freak out. “It’s just means that… change is coming. Doors are closing.”

“We’re close to the end,” Matteo guesses, and David nods in agreement. Matteo turns and kicks the door to one of the old stalls shut. He turns to look back at David, who is sticking the card back in the deck. He is still watching Matteo. “We knew that already. What do we do? Why is your eye— why is it all fucked up?”

The faucet that David was using before is off now, but droplets of water are still dripping from the tap. It’s a steady beat, and it is syncronized with the pounding of Matteo’s heart. 

“I think we’re closer to the end than we realized,” David says slowly, pressing against his eye with his fist. “We’ve been ignoring it. But it’s coming.”

Matteo swears quietly. 

“How is this meant to end?” He asks David, almost desperately. David stares at the dripping sink. He is standing far enough away from it that, from where Matteo is standing, he can see David reflected in the line of mirrors, cracked and broken. 

Each reflection is slightly different. One of them has a bruise that circles the entirety of David’s neck. Another shows him dressed in a suit, black and dismal, with rain-soaked shoulders. There is one where he is wearing a crown of leaves, another where his mouth is open and dripping blood. The one in the middle shows David as he is, tired and drawn. 

They all look up and stare at Matteo in the reflection. 

“I don’t know,” David answers.

***

David’s apartment is warm— Laura keeps the heat cranked high. There are plants that line all of the windowsills and vines that curve onto the floor. They never look dry, and Matteo wonders if they ever actually need to be watered, or if David has enough influence that they stay alive through their proximity to him.

Matteo likes to spend as much time there as he’s allowed to, and David doesn’t ever seem inclined to kick him out. In fact, he seems to like it when Matteo’s there. He’s quick to invite him in, and there always seems to be something that David can offer him— a glass of water, a sandwich, and, on one memorable occasion, a broom, with a demand that he help David sweep up a broken plate before Laura got home. 

Music plays softly through David’s phone speakers as Matteo slumps over the small kitchen table, delicately tracing the edges of the leaves of the potted plant on the table. He doesn’t recognize it, and he thinks it must be new. David is sitting next to him, leaning over his Latin homework, grumbling as he takes a large eraser to a translation that Matteo is sure was already close to perfect. His sketchbook lays open by his left elbow. Matteo wants to ask to see it, but he doesn’t.

“Can’t you help me with this?” David asks him, sounding frustrated, and Matteo looks away from the sketchbook to smile at him. There’s a smear of graphite on his cheek. 

“I haven’t done it,” Matteo admits, glancing at his discarded backpack by the front door. He looks back at David and shrugs a little. “Plus, you’re getting better at Latin than me.”

It was true; David was studying hard, and quickly surpassing whatever leftover skills Matteo still had from when he was a child.

David sighs loudly and tilts his head to the right, cracking his neck loudly. Matteo huffs out a laugh, and David smiles back at him, slow and relaxed. It was a privilege to see him like this— Matteo knew that David rarely stopped acting. In private, David was different than he was at school. When he let his guard down, he let himself laugh freely.

Matteo wonders how many people ever got to see him like this. 

“I’m just glad the new teacher is better than Nehaus,” he says, and Matteo stiffens slightly. He thinks that he should ask David about what happened in Cabeswater that night. That night had always hung between them, like a secret. 

They had so many shared secrets. 

But Matteo knows David. 

“Way better,” he agrees easily, and David’s smile changes, just a bit. He knows that Matteo had thought about asking. The corner of his mouth drops, and the moment feels charged as they stare at each other, sequestered in the corner of the tiny kitchen that David shares with his sister, surrounded by plants that glow with almost impossible health. The music coming from his phone speakers glitch for just a moment.

Matteo is used to being the only one with magic.

“What do you want to wish for?” David asks suddenly. Matteo blinks at him, feeling like he’s missing something. David clarifies, “When we find Glendower.”

Glendower. 

“I don’t know,” Matteo says. His eyes rove over David’s face. “I don’t have anything I need to wish for.”

The line is back between David’s brow. “Nothing?” He presses, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on them. Their faces are even closer, now, and it feels like they’re whispering to each other, even though the volume of their voices stays the same. “You don’t want anything?”

Matteo gnaws at the loose piece of skin on his lip. He thinks it might be bleeding. 

“Anything I want, I can dream,” Matteo says slowly. Matteo doesn’t create things often, anymore. Since they fixed the ley line, Matteo’s dreams have gone back to being calm. “And anything that I can’t dream, I wouldn’t want to wish into existence anyway.”

He’s thinking of David. He thinks that David knows that, with the way that David takes a deep breath in through his nose, and releases it through his mouth. It’s a classic calming technique— Matteo uses it, sometimes.

“What would you wish for?” Matteo asks, and David closes his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he answers.

***

Jonas died, but then he was alive again, brought back by Cabeswaters sacrifice. Matteo could barely follow the sequence of events, even when he sat down and tried to puzzle them out privately in a spare moment in between the resurrection and what came after.

Jonas had, apparently, gone to Hanna’s house and seen some sort of sign. He had linked up with Carlos and Abdi, who had shown him something magical in the basement of an abandoned building on Raven Day. 

Matteo didn’t think too hard about what that might mean. 

They ended up at the house where Jonas used to live, where he had died the first time, and he convinced Abdi and Carlos to let him venture into a tunnel beneath the house by himself. Abdi and Carlos had contacted Hanna, who had then collected David and Matteo, and they sped to the coordinates that had been sent to them by Abdi.

When they arrived there, they traveled into the tunnels, walking for what seemed like hours. When they reached the end, they found Jonas lying dead in an unmarked tomb, on top of a slab of stone covered in thick vines.

It was the worst moment of Matteo’s life. He clutched at Jonas’ face and shook him, begging him to wake up. Hanna stood at his side, crying silently, while Abdi and Carlos stood at the entrance of the tomb, far out of their depth but shaken. Only David kept any sort of calm, though his face was ashen. He took out his tarot deck, drew a card, and stood silently for a moment, staring around at the walls and at the stone slab.

“We’re in Cabeswater,” he said, and Matteo stared at him, still taking deep, gulping breaths, trying to suppress the tears that he knew were coming.

“What?” He asked, voice cracking, and David stared at him, a frantic gleam in his eyes.

“We’re in Cabeswater,” he repeated, the continued, words stumbling as he hurried to get them out. “Cabeswater has been giving us signs for weeks. It knew this was coming. If you asked, it might be able to help.” 

Matteo shook his head, hair flopping in front of his eyes. He didn’t try to move it out of the way. “Cabeswater isn’t strong enough for anything like that.”

“Yes, it is,” David insisted. “And it loves you. It would do anything for you. It would—” He stopped, but only for a moment. “It would die for him, if you asked.” 

Matteo stared at him and closed his eyes. He thought, at hard as he could, _save him_. 

Please, he begged. _Amabo te_. 

And he did. He loved Cabeswater— his largest and most fantastical dream. It was a remnant of his past, of the childlike wonder that he held when he had first begun to dream. Anything was possible, and it was all beautiful. It was his soul laid bare. He loved Cabeswater, and Cabeswater loved him. 

It would do this last favor for him.

He felt David’s presence on the edge of his mind, reaching out to Cabeswater in his own way, showing Cabeswater what it was that they wanted it to do. They worked together, Cabeswater and it’s magician, doing this one last thing for them.

All Matteo could do was project that one word: please.

***

Matteo steps outside, away from the party. 

It seems like every person he knew was inside, celebrating Jonas’ return to life. It was too boisterous for him— he needed to get away from the alcohol and the lights and the laughter. He felt like he was still mourning something, even though Jonas was back.

He moves away from the front door of Hanna’s house and towards the distant treeline. It’s a bit of a walk, and his shoes are dusty again when he finally stops. He had cleaned them, when they had gotten out of the tunnel beneath Jonas’ old house. He had taken a rag to it and scrubbed for what seemed like hours. 

Matteo stops and leans against a large spruce tree and lights a cigarette. He takes a puff and flicks the lighter once, twice, and again. He leans his head against the bark and stares up at the stars. 

He tries to convince himself he can feel some sort of magic in the air.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” David’s voice calls out, and Matteo turns to watch his approach. He’s wearing a green sweater, with a line of leaves embroidered on the cuff of the sleeves. He leans against the tree, directly to Matteo’s left. “Party a bit much?”

Matteo takes another drag and blows the smoke out of his mouth. His head lolls lazily to the side, taking in David’s profile.“Yeah.”

David nods, a curl barely falling in front of his eye. He brushes it out of the way impatiently. Matteo stares at the shadow of his eyelashes across his cheek.

“It’s okay, you know,” David says, and Matteo feels like he’s coming out of a stupor. “That you miss Cabeswater.”

Matteo swallows. “I don’t know what you mean,” He deflects, and David shoots him a wry smile.

“You were its Greywaren,” David says, and Matteo doesn’t object to the title. “I was it’s magician. We…” He trails off, face twisting. He shrugs a little. “We miss it more than they do. They can’t feel that it’s gone.”

“You miss it?” Matteo asks, heart hammering almost painfully in his chest.

David nods, looking almost distracted. He stares around at the trees around them. “Yeah, I mean… I was connected to it. It was always with me. It was like— I don’t know. A presence. It was beautiful,” he adds, thoughtful. “It was like I was never alone.” 

He looks back at Matteo. His eyes are sparkling.

Matteo nods, stubs out his cigarette, and turns to kiss him. 

David kisses him back easily. A light wind picks up, rustling the leaves above their heads and blowing Matteo’s hair into David’s face. He pulls back, and David runs a hand through it, pushing it back against his skull, laughing a bit as he does so. He smiles at Matteo, and kisses him again. 

They stay in the woods for a long time.

***

That night, Matteo doesn’t smoke before he goes to sleep.

He is sequestered in David’s apartment, tucked into his side underneath his striped comforters. His room still smells of grass, and a dim light streams in through his window. David had fallen asleep long before Matteo had, but Matteo stayed awake, staring at the art that lines David’s wall.

There were hundreds of drawings, tacked up on the walls. Some showed simple sketches of images that Matteo knew came from Cabeswater— a loose pile of stones, a gaping cave, a tree that stretched impossibly high. There were a few portraits— Jonas, with ravens streaming out from behind him, Hanna, smiling widely, Abdi and Carlos, hardly more than shadowy figures on either side of a set of open doors. 

Matteo recognized himself in more drawings than he could count. There he was, peering into a deep pond. There were his hands, gripping a steering wheel. There was his cigarette lighter. There he was, all in color, staring forward with a look in his eye that Matteo didn’t recognize on his own face. 

He turns away from the wall and looks at David. He is sleeping soundly, but there is a line that lingers between his eyebrows. Matteo moves so that he can press his thumb there and rubs gently. David’s brow relaxes.

Matteo feels more relaxed than he ever has. He buries his nose in David’s hair and closes his eyes. 

Matteo Florenzi dreams of light.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> well. here we are again. i didn't actually think i would write anything else after i published my first short one shot, but i started a companion piece that was also meant to be short, and it turned into this. which is still kind of short! but longer than i intended it to be.
> 
> i didn't want to do a page-by-page retelling of TRC, because frankly, i don't think it would work if you looked too closely at it. so i bastardized it. sorry to maggie, i guess. this is also only barely edited, so let me know if there's any horrific errors that absolutely ruin the reading experience. 
> 
> anyway. i hope you liked it! leave a comment if you feel like it, and you can chat with me on tumblr @/davidskam. 
> 
> title comes from the song Atlas: Touch by Sleeping at Last


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